Fixation
by sunthorn
Summary: "Have you ever talked to a therapist about your fixation on women with badges and guns?" Willa does some thinking. One-sided one shot that may become a multi-chap.


**There were no Walter/Willa fics for me to read, so I decided to write one. If I can discipline myself into actually writing, this'll be the beginning of a multi-chap fic. Yeah, yeah, I know 19 years is a pretty wide age gap but I think they're cute. Sue me.**  
**I don't own any of it.**

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_"Have you ever talked to a therapist about your fixation on women with badges and guns?"_

Willa propped her feet up on the table she was supposed to be cleaning and flipped through a magazine she wasn't really reading. Her hands tended to fidget while she thought about Walter and by now they sought out the worn Vogue left by Isabel automatically. She supposed the familiarity of the dog eared, stained pages beneath her fingers pointed at an unhealthy preoccupation with the younger of her 'benefactors' but Willa had never been one for over analyzing, so for the moment she just flipped and pondered.

Walter. He was a certifiably unstable callous jackass and a sorry excuse for a barman, but to her continued chagrin, he was constantly where her mind retreated when her attention wasn't somewhere else. Sure, he was attractive. And funny. And weirdly talented. And hott. All those muscles... Willa shook her head in attempt to rattle those illegal thoughts right on out of her head. Totally illegal. She sighed in frustration, gripping the magazine's pages hard. He drove her crazy, stalking around the Ends of the Earth, generally oozing sexuality. It was worse when Isabel was there. And still worse when she wasn't, i.e. recently. She was studying or something and wouldn't visit, so Walter had been inadvertently sexually cut-off. Which made him growlier than usual. Which made Willa's attempts to not stare at him for hours on end, practically drooling, even more futile than usual.

He was completely off limits, and what was worse in Willa's opinion, Walter obviously didn't see her in any kind of attractive light, forget about the same kind of seductive he embodied. She was a teenager. Sixteen and ruled by her hormones. Just the resident charity case delinquent. He treated her as if she was still running her cons on the street. He ignored Leo's protestations that she had changed and wouldn't return to her old life, instead cracking little jokes every time he turned around about how she was a thief and a scoundrel. He'd even insinuated that she _hooked._ Which admittedly had been thrilling because for a moment she felt her unrealistic wish for Walter to see her as the woman she was becoming instead of a little girl was almost, kinda coming true.

No such luck. She was still just the pubescent criminal that lived in a trailer behind his bar.

_But I guess that why I like Walter_, Willa mused. _Not 'like' as in omigaaaadd I'm crushing so haaaaard! Sqeeeee! _but 'like' as in she genuinely could appreciate his presence. As a human being. And if Willa was being honest with herself, there really weren't many people in her life she could put on that list. Walter didn't expect her to turn saintly overnight like Leo did. He didn't watch her every move, ready to rebuke her if even an ounce of her morality was in question. But at the same time, he didn't expect nothing of her, like Christina Farrel, that snake of a probation officer. Through all the jokes cracked and the arguments with Leo that she couldn't change, Willa sensed that he was kind of proud of her. She didn't really try either way; to go back to being a gypsy thief or to turn into Leo's model citizen. Which was kind of how Walter lived. He hadn't tried to change his insane self for anyone or anything. _I guess we're kind of alike like that_, Willa thought, smoothing the page advertisement for Acqua Di Gio in her magazine. _I'm just Willa, and there's not much I'm willing to do to change that. Except maybe not go to jail. Yeah. I wonder what kind of cologne Walter wears..._

She had just turned the page when heavy footsteps echoed in the hall. Willa sprang to her feet and dropped the magazine, quickly busying herself with putting up the chairs as Walter strode in. _Speak of the Devil..._

"Where's agent McHottie?"

"Eh, I don't wanna have sex with her." Willa just barely kept herself from choking on saliva. Walter regarded her knowingly. "I thought I'd skip to your real question and save some time. I spurned her sexy advances, she left. Hey, you're good with faces right?"

"What d'ya mean?" She sat straddling the last chair backwards as Walter came towards her and pulled down his own chair.

"Well you're a thief; can't pickpocket the same person twice."

"I'm _reformed_ now, but yes, I don't forget faces, why?"

"I want you to look through all that footage and find Carlos Abreu."

"Why?"

"Because if we don't put that family back together, Leo's gonna eat himself back into the past."

"But why-"

"His daughter Ellie's birthday's coming up. She would've been turning sixteen but she died in an ecoli outbreak that could've been prevented; corporate greed."

"I meant-"

"He thought that maybe Ellie's death was some kind of judgement on his shady lawyer mentality... so he lost about a thousand pounds, and let's just say he became a whole different man. A good man, that we like."

"Walter." She interrupted his annoying rant. "When I asked why, I meant what good would it do us to find Carlos Abreu on the tape."

"Okay, that's not what you asked, importance of clarity." He reminded her.

"_Walter_."

"The FBI thinks Carlos has been smuggling chemicals out of the plant for the Metones. You catch him talking to a Metone, we can confirm that." He got up and moved behind the bar.

"I dunno, that's a lot of footage and I'm _really_ tired..."_ Hmm, maybe I can get something good outa this_, Willa schemed. Walter reached behind him. He presented her with the tall, silver coffee pot, that slow grin creeping over his face.

"That is why they invented caffeine and sugar. It's particularly good for young people who's brains haven't fully formed yet."

She looked at him expectantly. He caved.

"Okay. What do you want in return?" _To be Isabel's replacement in your bed this week._

"Hundred bucks."

"Money? That's all? No problem." Her eyebrow quirked as he grabbed his beer and made for the door. "What? I'm good for it. Remember: coffee. Sugar. It's good for ya."

"Where are you going?" She's hoped he would at least help her get started with his god-awful magical finder assignment.

"Where do you think?"

"I dunno, how should I know?" But he had disappeared. Willa sighed. She was beginning to think she'd have to become a cop for Walter to notice her.


End file.
